We must rise and follow her;
When from every hill of flame,
She calls and calls each vagabond by name."
William Bliss Carman
Today is grey and wet and dark. I'm watching the rain drip steadily outside my window and I am inspired. Only a few hours into the day I feel as though this day is destined for good. I am throwing many little things: bud vases, ornaments, dipping bowls, espresso mugs, and ashtrays to sell and it is so pleasant to see them lined up on the shelves, their wet, earthy sides glistening - looking so touchably soft, like the mud piles of childhood.
Beside me I have my tea, to keep away the chill in the air; there is pumpkin soup on the stove for lunch, and very likely for tea as well. My indoor herbs are thriving, Chopin is playing on the radio. There is beauty all around. I danced through my cleaning up this morning all across the cool honey wood of the floor. My eyes are dark, with soft greens and browns like the leaves outside that are turning, but not yet turned.
I'm longing to take the beauty of my home with me on a trip down the road, wandering with my opulent little life on my back and the loveliness of the world all around me. These photos I've found only encourage me.
here, of course is my ideal home, cozy, lovely, excessive.